The Imperishable Flame
by Ironicnot
Summary: A story set many years after the ring was destroyed, exploring the possibility of a post-nuclear apocalypse in middle earth.
1. The March of the Ents

Lori looked quietly down at his bowl of porridge, red hair spilling over his eyes. Well, to call it porridge would be rather generous. The food was really nothing more than a loose collection of dried up, long rotten oats put into some lukewarm water. The entire hut reeked of this meager excuse for food, excluding of course all of the other smells the house had collected over the years. Honestly it was a wonder that the bugs and rust hadn't taken over the whole single room, Lori thought.

One of his siblings ate silently, as he did, while the other three whispered crude jokes to each other. His parents, standing a few feet away from the table were having an argument. They had been having those a lot recently. Usually over petty things which didn't really matter very much, like who would cook the porridge or something. Lori wished that they would get their argument over with.

Underneath the creaking table Lori held a small flute which he had carved. It was made out of a small piece of tree bark he had found outside a few weeks ago. Wrapped around the mouthpiece of the flute was a small bit of bright red cloth, something which he had been hiding just for an occasion such as this. He had spent ages on it, making absolutely sure that the elvish runes he had fashioned were correct. The runes were based on what few old books he could scavenge for and so it was ultimately extremely sloppy, but he believed that it was a fair representation of the ancient languages of the now long extinct race.

Lori looked up. His parents had stopped shouting at each other suddenly. His father sat on a stool next to their huge family radio, as he almost always was, listening in for news from his friends about the outside world. Apparently strange things were happening way out west. Of course, Lori never heard any of this news, despite his pleadings to listen just once on the radio. His mother had retired to the old couch, now covered in a thick layer of mold with her head in her hands.

Lori got up out of his chair and went over to his mother. "Mama, can I go outside?"

Lori's mother turned to the boy with a dull, annoyed expression. "Why would you ever want to do that in this awful storm?"

"I just wanna play with my friends for a bit!" said Lori, "I still haven't showed them my flute yet!"

His mother rolled her eyes. "Whatever, just come back in soon, you know how dangerous a storm can be."

"Yes mama!" Lori said, starting to walk calmly to the door.

One of his brothers, Pori, snickered as Lori passed. "Look at Lor'!" he whispered to whoever would listen, "Gonna go play with his imaginary friends!" The whole table snickered under their breath. Lori's mother and father pretended to not notice.

"And make sure to bring the detector!" Lori's mother shouted as Lori himself got to the door.

"Yes mama!" Lori said, grabbing the faded yellow box as he stepped calmly through the door, shutting it behind him. A faint rushing sound could now be heard. Lori looked up the steps. They were ancient and crumbling, leading up to the part-wood-part-metal hatch door. The stairs completely filled the dark room. Lori climbed up and began to push on the door. It creaked dangerously and pushed down on Lori almost as much as Lori was pushing up on it, but eventually Lori was able to push it open and step outside.

The winds bit into him, sending dust into his eyes immediately. Lori quickly put on his dark goggles and pulled his scarf up over his mouth. He knew he had forgotten something. Sand stretched on for miles and miles in every direction. The storm prevented one from seeing the sky, however if one did they would only see a great brown blanket covering the world. The radiation detector began to click rhythmically as the wind howled around Lori. Nearby was a metal sign which is said to have once been green and was used to mark the names of roads. Now Lori's family used it to mark their home, the Duggleswift family.

Lori pulled his loose jacket tight across his body from the cold and climbed slowly to the top of a nearby ridge. The walk was slow, having to fight against both the wind and the sand at the same time. Lori was hoping that a storm wouldn't come on this day too, but at this point he didn't even care anymore. He had to do this, if not for them then for him. He had prepared for this for months and he wasn't going to let a simple storm get in his way.

Lori finally made it to the top of the small dune, sitting and waiting. He waited and waited. It must have been a whole half an hour that he waited. And then he continued to wait. Lori began to get worried. Would they not come? Did he miss it? Or was he too early? Lori decided to wait another few minutes. He began to count on his fingers the time. 120 seconds. Then 90. Then 60. Then 10.

Finally, after what had felt like an eternity Lori heard a faint _thump thump_ like a metronome in the distance. One he was very familiar with. He stood up. He could feel the consistent drumming shoot up his leg. Very soon he could hear a faint sort of singing, blending with the tenor howling of the wind around him in it's own deep bass. It seemed to almost creak in the air. Lori got out his flute and pulled down his scarf, preparing himself.

Very soon he could see dark figures appear through the deep dusty fog of the storm. They were tall, easily 12 or more feet tall, although it was difficult to tell because of their slouching. Their limbs were spindly and rough, twisting around like vines. They plodded as if they had been walking for an entire day and would fall over at any moment. However, their most distinctive feature was their eyes. Those deep, green, hollow eyes which seemed to look out on the world through a thick cloud. None of them looked at Lori, simply looking on towards where they were going.

They sang their song altogether, plodding along in a march, fashioning the Earth itself into a drum for them as they shook the whole ground beneath them. Lori began to play along with them, following them along and adding with his own harmonies and flairs. He played with all the might he could, trying to get at least one of them to notice him. The hulking, zombie-like creatures continued to plod along, singing their ancient tune.

 _When spring unfolds the beechen-leaf and sap is in the bough,  
When light is on the wild-wood stream, and wind is on the brow,  
When stride is long, and breath is deep, and keen the mountain air,  
Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is fair!_

 _When Spring is come to garth and field, and corn is in the blade,  
When blossom like a shining snow is on the orchard laid,  
When sun and shower upon the earth with fragrance fill the air,  
I'll linger here, and will not come, because my land is fair!_

 _When Summer lies upon the world, and in a noon of gold  
Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves the dreams of trees unfold,  
When woodland halls are green and cool, and wind is in the West,  
Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is best!_

 _When Summer warms the hanging fruit and burns the berry brown;  
When straw is gold, and ear is white, and harvest comes to town;  
When honey spills, and apple swells, though wind be in the West,  
I'll linger here beneath the Sun, because my land is best!_

 _When Winter comes, the winter wild that hill and wood shall slay;  
When trees shall fall and starless night devour the sunless day;  
When wind is in the deadly East, then in the bitter rain  
I'll look for thee, and call to thee; I'll come to thee again!_

 _When Winter comes, and singing ends; when darkness falls at last;  
When broken is the barren bough, and light and labour past;  
I'll look for thee, and wait for thee, until we meet again:  
Together we will take the road beneath the bitter rain!_

 _Together we will take the road that leads into the West,  
And far away will find a land where both our hearts may rest._

One single ent turned to Lori. It looked on him with an expressionless face, looking almost curiously at him, before turning back and continuing on with his brethren. The ents marched onward, fading into the storm, their song becoming nothing more than a distant plea, before disappearing entirely. Lori got his belongings together and went back inside. The wind continued to howl.


	2. Sorrow Road

Lori trembled in a closet at the back of his small home, along with the rest of his family. It had been years since the song he played on the dunes above, and Lori had paid little mind to it since. The lights of the room were dark, and not a single member of the family made a sound. Two of Lori's brothers were missing.

A few days ago Lori's father had heard something strange on his radio, and decided to head to the nearest settlement to investigate. He hadn't returned since. Lori had tried to use the radio himself to try and find out what was going on, but he couldn't pick up any kind of signal. His father had never properly trained him, after all.

From the ceiling, dust could be seen falling slowly down into the room as the whole earth shook rhythmically. There was little worry that the supports would still be able to hold, but the vibrating back and forth didn't comfort any. The shaking grew more and more intense, a heavy ringing slowly filling all of the family's hearing. Then, suddenly, it stopped.

Lori pulled a gun from a holster on his belt, pushing against the wall. Lori had been taught to use a gun, but only against the mutated animals outside, not on a person. Lori was only bringing it out just in case. He didn't know how many people were going to be with them. He really didn't even think the gun would end up meaning anything. Lori just felt slightly more secure with it, though it was a false security.

The hatch into the home proper could be heard as it was slowly creaked open. Several lights could be seen from around the edges of the closet door as people entered the single room, searching the place out.

Lori tensed up. 'How thoroughly are they gonna search?' he wondered. Lori became sure that this was it, that this was the end for him. He had never been especially fond of his family, however when things finally came down to it, he couldn't help but think of them too. But of course, all of that would be for naught anyway.

"Well," a voice said, "Seems like we've got another empty one. Let's set this place ablaze, boys!"

Time seemed to freeze for Lori in a brief moment. Did they say that they were going to set his home on fire? That would mean not just him and his family, but the place he had spent his entire life growing up as well! He couldn't let that happen!

"Wait!" Lori said, bursting out of the closet, and shutting the door quickly behind him. His family tried to pull him back in that brief moment, however Lori moved too suddenly for them to react quick enough. "I'm here!"

About a dozen young men stared back at him. Like most people in the wasteland, they appeared to have not bathed in months. Their clothing looked to be all straps and belts, with extra bits of leather sewn on. Scraps of metal and other pieces of junk were pierced into their skin just as much as their clothing. Most of them had some sort of neon paint either on their bodies or their clothes. Spikes also seemed to be coming out of them from every direction, whether from their hair or their piercings. Some of them carried chains in their arms, while some had gallons full of gasoline.

"Just you?" asked a particularly skinny one of them, "There are no others?"

Lori struggled to not make any sign of panic. "Yes," was all he was able to get out. That caused the young men to laugh.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I am the only one here. Just, please spare my home."

They all snickered. "Yeah, sure, we'll house nice and tidy for yah. Chain him up!" Lori was surrounded by the young men as they threw chains all across his body. Lori had no reason to trust these peoples' words, but it was the best he could probably get at that moment. The metal was heavy and cold as it went around his wrists, ankles, and neck. He was forced onto his knees simply by the weight of it all.

"From now on your name is Worker R-1221. You shall not answer to any other name. You will now work as a servant of the city, where you will labour for the benefit of all people!" The other men, who had been building up in laughter up until this point, suddenly burst out with their loudest guffaws yet. "Alright everybody, let's get back to work! We got a schedule to run here!" The man took a whip from off his belt, and swung it across Lori's shoulder as he was dragged by the chains up onto his feet, up the stairs and, through the door to the outside.

The sky outside was a bright yellow as the sun began to go down. The landscape was a desert of dull brown dust. Just outside Lori's home there were a few scattered belongings: a dust collector, and a few rusty protein generators for food, sucking up whatever sunlight they could get. If one followed the rolling dunes far out enough they might come across another home like this one. Lori's was the farthest south though.

Upon one of the tall dunes was a massive, black, metal machine. The shape of it was bizarre, seeming almost like a small tower of black sheets of metal, rising up in a vague, spiralling pattern. It had slaves all over it, hanging off whatever small outcropping they could find. There were also a couple of unlucky slaves crowding around a bottom area with pedals, trying to get whatever oxygen back into their system as sweat poured off of them. This was their vehicle, or at least what they used as one. Whatever the machine was originally used for has long since been lost to time.

Suddenly, Lori heard the sound of an explosion. He turned around to see his home on fire. He tried to run toward it in order to somehow put the fire out, but the chain around his neck was too tight, stopping him dead in his tracks. He could hear screaming coming from within the small, ramshackle structure. He called out, "No! Please!" All the slavers did was laugh.

"I thought you said this was empty! I guess those screams are just my imagination, then!" He pulled hard on Lori's chain, pulling him in close. "Because if it ain't, then I might just get awfully upset. But it's just all in me head, right?"

Lori stayed silent as the chain was let loose. It was so loose in fact, that if he wanted too Lori could make a bolt to the house, maybe even save someone! He dare not though.

A figure suddenly crawled out of the wreckage, as the fire began to die down on it's own. Their skin was a mess of blood and black char. Their hair was completely burnt off. It was impossible to tell who it was anymore. "Lori…" the figure said, before collapsing.

Lori just sat there and watched, tears streaming down his face. "Come on!" the man said, pulling back against Lori's chain once more. "I haven't got all day."

Lori slowly got up, making his way up the sand dune. The sky began to go slightly orange as the sun continued to set. Lori was hauled onto the huge machine, filled with about a dozen different young men, many of them either asleep or staring down at the dust. No one dared speak. Lori was lifted up onto a ledge along with two other men. As he went up his shirt was stripped from him, and also his shoes, leaving only his loose fitting brown trousers. The same as all the other slaves. After a minute or two of waiting, the vehicle was set into motion.

The vehicle went across the dunes like a ship across a stormy sea, though the noise of it was more that of a wild mutated beast. Lori thought it a miracle that no one was falling off. As they passed they would sometimes see other shacks nestled in the dunes. They stopped at a few of these other shacks, but before long the slavers had decided that they had loaded up enough, and began to head back northeast. The sun was now fully setting, sending the sky into a rich, dark orange or red, as the faint outline of a burning circle could be seen in the west. If Lori squinted, and raised his head, when they were at the heights of some of the dunes, he might be able to make out the Ered Luin far in the distance. Or maybe that was just an illusion of the sand.

Lori did not notice that though. He merely sunk his head down toward the sand. After many hours of journeying across the deserts of the ancient lands of the outcast scholars, Lori fell asleep.

The stars were especially clear that night.

Lori awoke to near silence and stillness. The hum and rumble of the vehicle had stopped. He heard nothing but quiet chatter from some of the slaver leaders down below.

He sat up. Making sure not to slide off the machine, he took a look around. They had stopped in the middle of a vast, flat plain. Like pretty much all places in the wasteland, it was a desert with little to no life to be found. Far in the distance he could just barely make out the outlines of mountains. In one direction, to the vehicle's right, there seemed to be the outline of squares and rectangles, towers leaning upon each other. Lori did not know this, but those were the ancient ruins of a city, likely one of many built by the Elessarian nations long before the bombs were dropped.

Below, a man was being pulled out of the pedals. Or, rather, a body. From how the men spoke Lori was able to deduce that the slave had died of exhaustion in the middle of the night. They were taking this as an opportunity to camp out for the evening.

"I still think we can keep going," one slaver said. "We don't need _all_ the fucking slaves to pedal to keep the engine running! We _can_ keep going."

"They have already exhausted themselves down to the bone" the strongest of them said, "If they all die on us they won't be of any use in the city."

"We have enough slaves!" the same slaver argued, "seriously, we've been out here for fuckin' weeks, when are we just gonna go home?"

"Keep it down!" the other slaver said. Everyone was immediately silent. "We will leave when I say we will leave. Do I make myself absolutely clear?"

"Yeh, boss"

"Sure"

"No problem"

They remained mostly silent after that, only a few quietly mumbling to each other. The strong slaver, meanwhile, began to study old maps, putting up marks. Occasionally he would ask a person behind him some question or another. "Did we manage to get that basilisk den?"

"No boss. Last I knew the damn critters were still clogging' up that irradiated river just down yonder." The leader would then nod and add a mark to the map with an old, pre-war pencil.

It continued on like this for at least ten minutes. Lori reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his revolver. He still had it from back home. They had forgotten to check him for any weapons when he got on board.

He made extra sure to be quiet as he put it against his eye. 'This is it!' he thought to himself, 'this is my chance!' He slowly aimed at one of the slavers. He placed his finger on the trigger...

But…

He couldn't do it. He didn't know why, but he just couldn't. Maybe it was because there were at least five other men around who would instantly try and catch him. Maybe it was because the other slaves would stay captured and he couldn't bear to leave innocents to die in the city. Maybe it was because he wouldn't have anywhere to go even if he did escape!

…

Lori's thoughts froze as all eyes from below landed on him.

'Oh…' Lori thought. '...fuck'

Gas in the wasteland was a luxury reserved only for the very wealthy. Any access to oil was mostly far in the east, and even then the ways in which it was dug up and refined had largely been lost. Thus much of the gasoline and oil of the world was purely on reserve. Because of this, if anyone has any sort of vehicles, they were always run by some sort of hard labour, whether it be through animals or people, sometimes with some form of pedal system.

That meant that life was very difficult for the life of a slave

As Lori sweated across the desert, moving his legs up and down in an unending rhythm, this was the sort of thing that crossed his mind. Of course, much of his internal monologue was drawn out of his mind, through both the constant shouting of the slavers above him, and from the heat and exhaustion of pedaling the great machine.

The sun was in full force that day. There was still cloud cover of course, but through what Lori believed to be some form of powerful witchcraft, the more potent rays of the sun still seemed to be passing through. Thus, all of Lori's body seemed to be scorching from the intense heat from above, and even from below. As the vehicle was solid black and made of metal, Lori could take no comfort there either, as all the heat was absorbed and released directly into him.

Around Lori endless desert seemed to stretch on into eternity. There was no life at all. No green or blue. Just the endless expanse of sand brown, with sand brown bushes and sand brown weeds.

As they went on Lori could see small scatterings of junk and debris on the road. 'We must be getting near some city ruins,' Lori thought. He had been to cities on occasion with his family before, oftentimes for scavenging or occasionally to trade with another far off family. Lori could not help but feel that he could see all of human history spread out before him, all in ruin and chaos as he continued on in shackles.

He saw a forlorn skeleton by the road. Not an uncommon site in the cities. Lori pondered what seperated the skeleton from himself.

As the sun began to set, images of the ancient past filling his mind, the ruins of buildings began to appear. Houses and storefronts and collapsed highways. In the distance, gunshots could be heard on occasion. To Lori, it seemed that he could hear whispers and the sounds of irradiated animals hunting in the dark corners of the ruins. The vehicle was ordered to move slow, and for once the slavers were completely silent

They left the ruins, continuing north on into the desert. The ruins were likely a suburb of some greater city. And it was then, when the sun had gone and the sky turned to blood red that Lori saw it.

Filling his entire view was a wall. A wall both ancient and new, built upon the foundations of the old, but raised up with scrap metal and sloppy concrete. The walls were not built in any style Lori could recognise, but in a strange manner with towers and huge arches and pointed shapes. At the front was a gate made with what looked to lori as a net of metal. On both the gate and the ancient foundations, Lori thought that he could see carvings and engravings, however of what Lori would never know.

Lori did know what this wall meant. He had made it to The City. He would work in The City. He would die in The City, likely from some form of radiation poisoning. He had heard of all the tales that The City brewed. He knew what was to come.

Perhaps it was from exhaustion, or even from dread, but Lori did not seem to notice when the gate opened, and he was led inside. Smoke rose up all around him, filling his lungs. Jeers and mockery filled the air, almost blotting out the screams mingling with the noise of industrial machinery. The sky seemed to go dark in an instant.

Any feeling that Lori had still held on to suddenly went numb. He was pulled from the machine by the slavers, checking to make sure he wasn't dead, before they repeated his number back to him. Slave R-1221 simply laid in the mud, closing his tired eyes and wishing that he would awake from this horrific nightmare.

 **Author's Note**

Well, it's been over a year since I posted the first chapter of this fic! Can't really believe it myself, to be honest, but what can you do? I was satisfied with how I left the fic originally, but I just couldn't get this setting out of my mind, and so eventually started writing more of it after managing to read through the Silmarillion for the first time for research. I actually planned to release a chapter, like, 6 months earlier, but I got sidetracked by other things (anime, mostly). Things should pick up more here, though, as I've dedicated myself to one chapter a week for this fic in order to get myself back into writing! We'll see how that goes, but whatever. Feel free to leave any sort of criticism!


	3. Naked in the Dark

His scars had begun to go numb.

Slave R-1221 was resting in what amounted to a small crevice, carved out of the wall of one of the many ancient buildings. High above, bright spotlights shone down from the 100 meter barriers making up the main structure of The City, causing the sky to be filled with nothing but blackness. Closer to the ground were many industrial centers and factories, filling the entire space between the barriers in a maze of concrete and brick. Fire was rising up out of each of them, filling the air with smoke and an eerie red glow. Screams could be heard from all directions, just barely making it through the booms and clanks of industrial busywork. R-1221 had long since grown used to this setting, even becoming bored by it.

The area around R-1221 was sparse for population. Only those who had just arrived recently or were doomed to die were allowed in this area. Most people there were the former, waiting for their first job assignment. Some tried to find a way to escape or demand to be let out, but most simply rested. They had obviously resigned themselves to this fate. R-1221 thought it a mercy that the new slaves were allowed any rest at all. After this most of them wouldn't be given the chance for unnecessary rest at all, as that might lead to conspiracy, which might lead to uprising.

Around the edges, near long rusted chain link fences were guards, armed with all sorts of different scavenged assault rifles. R-1221 didn't know where The City got its scrap and scavenged parts from. He guessed that there was some group of slaves that would scavenge in the wastes beyond. Either that or trade, which didn't seem likely with the amount of drugged up lunatics The City hired for guards and leadership roles.

Lining the fence were various signs. There were tons just like these all across The City. Many seemed to have once been used as warnings and cautions, but there were also others which depicted people and wars and underground bunkers. Each of them were covered in words of all shapes and sizes. R-1221 couldn't read any of them, of course. It wasn't as if reading was a particularly encouraged skill for a slave to have.

Most of the signs were covered in graffiti anyway. Even the crevice R-1221 was hidden in. All across the walls were carvings and drawings of letters and symbols. Sometimes there was a small picture, but mostly it was all words. Thinking far back to his childhood, R-1221 recalled that his father had always promised to teach him to read, but never got around to it. That was a distant memory now though.

There was a set of tracks in the enclosed area R-1221 was in. These tracks were used to bring new slaves from the entrance to all the different subsections of The City. Sitting on those tracks was a woman. Most slaves sat together, whether they knew each other or not, but this woman was sitting alone. She did not seem to be resting like the others. In fact, she was on edge. Sweat could be seen beginning to form on her face, and she seemed to be eyeing the area like a cornered animal.

R-1221 continued to watch the woman, curiously. He had nothing better to do. His body was frail and tired, and if he tried to talk most of what would come out would be a fit of dry heaving. The woman continued to look around, holding something close to her body. The guards weren't paying attention. Most of them were drinking or making crude jokes with each other, and the ones who weren't were focusing on the larger group. Apparently not noticing R-1221, she relaxed slightly, and let her arms fall, briefly revealing the thing in her arms. R-1221 froze.

The thing in her arms was a girl. A living, breathing child, no more than eight years old. Unlike the glares held by most people in The City, this child's face was full of fear and anguish. The woman soothed the girl as best as she could, trying to calm her down. She made a silly face, clearly joking with the child. The child smiled. That was the first true smile that R-1221 had seen in at least ten years.

Tears were forming around R-1221's eyes. 'What is that child doing here?' he thought. Children were never seen in The City. They were usually killed by the slavers before they even got a chance to look upon its walls. If any did manage to get to the gates, they were rounded up and taken by the boss. Where he took them, R-1221 didn't know. To see a child in that place felt to him akin to seeing a small puppy kicked and abused in front of one's eyes. It felt wholly wrong and evil, and only made R-1221 wonder why.

R-1221 simply sat and watched the child for a while, not daring to get any closer and draw attention to the young girl. She spoke softly with the older woman, asking questions R-1221 presumed. The woman whispered back, and made sure that the child was calm. The girl's smile quickly faded, gaining one of confusion and dread as she looked across The City. The two sat together for a long while, talking softly. The child stayed close to the older woman's side for a long time, but did eventually give in to her childish energy and curiosity and began to wander along the tracks. The woman followed behind closely, scolding the younger in as soft a voice as she could. It quickly became a small chase.

R-1221 seemed mesmerized by these happenings. It brought back to him memories of his youth, blurry and mismatched as they were. He did not have an especially good childhood. His brothers would often pick on him. His father was distant. His mother, overworked. And all of them suffered the harsh misery of the wasteland. However, for one growing up in a post nuclear world, R-1221 had had a decent life. His siblings were rough and harsh, but at times were amiable and honest. His father was distant, but also had a strong force of will and ethics. His mother was tired, and yet at the same time stronger than anyone else he knew. It was harsh and cruel, but it didn't compare to the suffering and cruelty life in The City could bring. R-1221 did not want to imagine what life would be like for a child there.

Suddenly, just as the older woman managed to catch up to and restrain the young child, a train came barreling in from around the corner. Bright lights were blazing from the front of it, as it charged towards the two. They ran, but stumbled on the tracks, falling to the ground. The train managed to stop just before hitting them both.

A large gang of slavers came bursting out of the sides of the train cars a moment after. Each of them was carrying some sort of weapon. And none of them seemed happy.

"Who's the bitch?!"

"Why the fuck did we stop?!"

"Imma kill 'em, I swear to god!"

"This better not be another fucking drunkie..."

"What's the matter with all you shitheads?!"

"I guess I get to try this thing out a bit early."

It was complete chaos, drugged up, half crazed thugs and mercenaries seemed to jump out of the train like cockroaches. The new slaves watched from a distance, a morbid curiosity keeping their eyes locked. R-1221 slunk back into the crevice, not wanting to witness the brutality. He had seen it too many times already.

When the mob saw the child, they all froze, going silent in almost an instant.

That was when the officer came out of the train. He was dressed in leather, black as oil, washed to a cleanliness rarely seen in the wasteland. His hair was a bright orange fire upon his scalp, shaped in a massive mohawk. He walked calmly and upright, with a stiffness to match steel. Carried in his arms was a single, small rifle.

This man was known as firecracker, one of The City's officers. These were the main administrative force in the slave pits, the boss' direct hands in running The City. R-1221's lash marks remembered firecracker well. And if half the things that R-1221 heard about the man were true, then R-1221 felt lucky that that was all he got.

Firecracker froze when he saw the woman and child, with his expression calm, but a flame burning in his eyes. Men were holding the woman and child by their limbs, practically holding them up off the ground.

"What is the meaning of this?" Firecracker said slowly, his voice deep with authority, "I thought that rascal vermin weren't allowed inside The City?"

"Please, you must-!"

"QUIET!" Firecracker smacked the woman hard against the jaw. She staggered back, looking down.

"What're we gonna do?" one of the thugs said. "If the boss finds out we let a kid slip past, it'll be our heads!"

Firecracker was silent a moment, his face turned away. "If the child stays here then the boss is bound to discover her in a week at most… but, if we took her to the caverns-"

"Please!" the woman said, crawling on her knees beneath the huge man. "I beg of you, please don't! She would die!"

Firecracker continued as if he did not hear the woman, a grin beginning to form on his face. "We always need new workers. We lose so many, I'm sure the guards would be more than willing to overlook this incident."

R-1221's body had gone completely stiff. 'Not the caverns...please' he pleaded in his own mind.

The woman continued to beg, like a dog to it's master. "Please, no! Anything but there! She's just a child, please just let her go free! I will do anything you ask, just please!"

"GET OFF OF ME, WOMAN!" Firecracker said, kicking her away. Blood began to trickle around her mouth, as she quivered in shock. "It is decided then. The child will go to the caverns, where she will work and learn honest discipline. The woman... well, I can take her into my care. My bed has been lonely, as of late." The thugs behind firecracker snickered and laughed at that.

R-1221 stood up. "Take me," he said, trying to ignore the immediate nausea the action brought.

Firecracker froze, giving R-1221 a bemused expression. "I beg your pardon?" he said.

"I will go to the caverns, and work even to death, if you allow this child to leave The City unharmed."

Firecracker smiled wildly at R-1221. "You would go willingly?"

"If you set the girl free."

Firecracker stared at the sorry slave who's knees shook with the effort just to stand. He then laughed, with all the other thugs along with him.

"Do you accept my proposal?" R-1221 said.

When at last the laughter had died down, Firecracker put an arm on R-1221's shoulder. "Listen to me, my friend! Why would you go and throw the rest your life away like that? You have no business here! Go back to your hole and enjoy life while it lasts!"

"Yes or no?"

Firecracker sighed. "I cannot turn you from this then. Very well. I will not hinder you in your pointless venture. Go ahead and spend your last remaining energy in the caverns."

"And the girl?"

Firecracker sighed. "Yes, I suppose that that is possible. Everybody, load up! Put the woman in my car and take the girl with you! MAKE SURE SHE IS NOT HARMED!"

"Yes sir!" they said, rushing to complete the job. R-1221 thought that they seemed almost like slaves themselves in how they obeyed firecracker so diligently.

"I do not have time to bring you to the caverns myself, I am going the opposite direction. There will be a train coming to get you on the morrow. Farewell." Firecracker said, before walking away from R-1221. The slave immediately collapsed to the floor, coughing and dry heaving into the dust.

On the way to the train the woman passed by R-1221 by chance. She stared at him for a long while, streaks of tears still clear on her face. "Thank you," she said softly, and then ran off towards one of the cars.

When the train was fully loaded it hissed and groaned under its own weight before continuing on at last to its next destination, leaving R-1221 alone with his thoughts.

R-1221 wondered how he had ended up in The City.

He wondered if, in some hopeful way, there wasn't something that he might have done better. That him ending up in the darkest pits of suffering wasn't completely inevitable.

He thought about what he had done in the moments of his capture. Was there anything he could have done there? Was his sacrifice somehow wrong?

He thought about the originators of The City. What had they done wrong to create such a place? It was not as if The City was built for the sole purpose of torturing people. If that was the purpose, R-1221 thought, then The City was far too inefficient. The purpose of The City had to have been originally to help people. Maybe it might have been to build up a proper dwelling place from the dust and trash of the wastes. To start some sort of industry. That was far from a cruel or malicious goal.

What then caused the tragedy? Was it that nobility was a lie, and that any notion of good or sacrifice was simply for naught? R-1221 could see that sentiment, even in his own life. He had sacrificed himself, both for his family and for the small child, and in both cases it simply drove him into deeper and deeper suffering. And in fact, at least in the case of his family, the sacrifice turned to naught. R-1221 could only guess the outcome of the sacrifice for the child, but imagined that it resulted no better. R-1221 had even stopped himself from murdering someone else, sacrificing away his own chance at freedom, and still the results were the same, as his life instantly became far worse.

So, was that it then? Was sacrifice for naught, and good intent a lie? Should one then simply live out the desires of their own flesh, and to hell with all else? What then was the point of it all? How could one justify to continue on with any of this?

Then an image returned to R-1221's mind that he had not thought of for an age. The image of the ents, marching across the desert. Ghosts of a time long past, still seeking after their long dead mistresses. They had every reason to lose hope. They had lost everything, the world, their families, and even their minds. What drove them to keep marching, then? What hope did they still as of yet cling to for warmth, even after all their seeking turned folly?

R-1221 thought long and hard about this. Long into the night, even to a time where the factories quieted and The City stilled, as the sky above drove back to it's darkest.

The trains arrived then, and he was hauled aboard like an animal, to join a herd of other slaves. Each of them were far larger and more cruel than R-1221 ever could be. They were all criminals, slaves who had given up their humanity to the most heinous of crimes. They did not dare even touch R-1221 though, out of fear of the guards and their weapons. R-1221, in turn, ignored them. Even as the train began to move on toward the center of The City, R-1221 continued to think.

R-1221 considered the men around him. While they were certainly larger than R-1221, and far and away different in personality than R-1221, they were all of them human. That meant that the things that made them up, both the good and especially the bad, were also inside R-1221. The same potential for evil was also inside himself. That also meant that the same potential to create something as truly terrible as The City was also inside himself.

R-1221 wondered then what it meant that he did not do those things. He had made mistakes, as anyone does, however he certainly was no criminal. He thought about how that potential for evil actions was not realized, at least not fully, in himself. Did that make him "good"? Why was it then that he had ended up in the same exact place as all of the people there? Surely if there was a good choice, that would also be the correct choice, and the choice to lead to the greatest outcome. Otherwise, what was the point of any sense of good or evil?

R-1221 thoughts then went to the ents again. Their continual march and going forward. They hadn't reached their destination yet. In fact, there was no guarantee that they ever would. That didn't stop them from continuing on, though. Maybe good could be good for it's own sake. Maybe it didn't matter that they never found what they were looking for, and the act of seeking it out was somehow inherently worthwhile. That was crazy though, right?

The train continued along, until eventually it made it to the barrier. It then began to climb a spiral tower, up and up. Eventually it made it even to the top of the barrier, where it continued along its border for a while. The barrierl was built like a cathedral of old, with high pointed towers and swirling patterns all across it. They had to disembark a moment, and when R-1221 left the train the wind blowing across the wall was strong enough that R-1221 nearly fell over from the force of it and the sound was enough to deafen. Still R-1221 continued to think.

He thought about the nature of truth. In his original sacrifice he had lied in order to protect his family. Could it be there that he had failed in this way? Could it possibly be, that the truth could be more important than even one's family and home? R-1221 looked to the ents. To what they had lost. They were able to continue on because they believed in the idea that their wives were still alive, that that idea was true. If merely the belief that something was true was able to motivate like that, even to the end of ages, then what would a lie be able to do? Could it even bring about a place as terrible as The City?

The train continued on after a while. And it continued in much the same manner as before, going up and over wall after wall. The train would stop often, picking up more and more slaves, stopping for inspections and refuelings and all manner of other things. They must have gone over at least six walls of this same pattern, moving deeper and deeper into The City, when eventually they had reached the top of the final wall. By this point the sky was red with the coming dawn. From this faint light, as well as the light of countless fires and spotlights, R-1221 could see upon the caverns.

It looked to be a wide crack in the earth, as if the world were an egg struck upon a bowl. Along the edges of this crack were many elevators, carrying many men down. They also would bring men up, only in far lesser degrees. Surrounding these were many camps, set up with white tarps. The camps, R-1221 presumed, was for the workers to live in and also to tend to the ones who survived.

In order to get down to the crack the slaves had to walk single file down a set of stairs along the edge of the wall. Across the wall were more posters from the war which preceded the wasteland. Posters presenting infalible soldiers facing off against terrible monsters. Of mothers raising up strength to support them.

R-1221 thought about how silly those posters all seemed now. Of a world which denied the humanity of the other side, and denied even the inevitable destruction that would result from their actions. The lies of these posters had been all but forgotten in the new world of the wastes, yet the truth that the ents sought kept them marching on even to the day that R-1221 played that song in the desert.

Once R-1221 and the other slaves got to the bottom of the wall they were immediately rushed toward the elevators, not allowed any sort of living space or nutrition. Apparently those were luxuries that were only granted to those who could prove that they had the ability to make it out of the caverns alive. R-1221 likely would have turned down food anyway, as he just would have thrown it back up. Other slaves and workers didn't even look at them as they walked past the encampments.

Finally, they made it to the elevators down into the pits. It was merely a single platform held up with ropes and powered by a single remote generator. Below the platform seemed to be nothing but endless darkness. A pitch black void from which it seemed nothing could return. R-1221 began to fear. It was not something he could properly express, but a deep desperation began clawing in the back of his mind. The thought appeared in his head that the blackness would simply swallow him up, and his soul would be lost forever in that abyss.

The elevator down was slow, and cramped. All around R-1221 could hear all manner of noises. Those of people working as well as deafening hums and rings all around, likely coming from some sort of machine to help with the digging. R-1221 could hardly see any of it though, being used to the harshly lit streets of The City. It felt as if R-1221 was being lowered into hell itself, or at least as far as he could reckon

When their platform unceremoniously banged itself on the bottom of the cavern they were told that, since they were all new to the caverns, that they would be mining in the deepest veins. Things were said to be far more dangerous down there. They were told that if they could make it through, that they would be rewarded with a bed and a warm meal. They weren't told what sorts of things they might encounter in the deeps, however one's imagination could easily fill in the gaps in this case.

It was at this point that all the slaves were chained together into one single line. They would follow each other single file by chain, until they reached their designated working station. It was a system R-1221 was well familiar with, although the danger of what would happen if he didn't follow exact protocol certainly made him nervous. And as he walked, he continued to think.

Surely, it can't be simply that he had lied. There were so many places where he had no say in the matter. He had no say whether or not the slavers came, or whether or not the guards had seen him with a gun, or whether or not the girl got caught by the guards. He had no say on any of it. But then, if he had no say in any of it, would that be equivalent to him saying that his actions didn't matter? That he had no effect on the world at all, and any effort towards anything was meaningless?

R-1221 thought back to the ruins of old towers he had seen on his way to The City. Those towers looked like they were made of glass, and yet they could touch the sky who-knew-how-many years later. Those buildings were built by people. How could one say that their actions didn't matter when the actions of others could build such structures. Wouldn't that be saying that only your own actions didn't matter? Wouldn't that be a double standard?

R-1221 thought one more time on the ents. They marched. That was an action. That action went on to inspire a young boy, alone in the desert, to make a flute and learn to play it. That boy then went on to be a slave, and think these same thoughts. That was far from their intent, clearly, and yet their actions went far beyond their original intention. Who was to say what the limit of one's actions were? Who was to say that one couldn't be responsible for their own situation, at least a little bit?

Eventually, the procession stopped. Slavers went down the line, giving tools out person by person. Just a simple pick. It was presumed that there was a cart somewhere that would pick up the stone to be sorted through. After getting his tool R-1221 was told to face left, and await further instruction Once everyone had their tools the order was given and R-1221 began to dig.

It was grueling work, just moving one's arms back and forth, avoiding the debris of the person next to you. The slaves would just push the stone behind them, where it was picked up and taken somewhere else. R-1221's arms and legs had already begun to ache from the walk down, so after what felt like hours and hours of working R-1221 began to feel as though he was dead already. His stomach had been turning all morning, his body felt as if it was going to break at the seams, and all the while it became increasingly difficult to breathe. The caves around him refused to become any more visible, forcing him to work in the dark. No one talked to each other and no one so much as cracked a smile as they worked, much like the rest of The City. R-1221 began to weep.

He wondered how pitiful it was, that he would die down in this dark. That in the last hours of his life he had finally tried to actually figure out his life, and now it was all for naught. He could not make his own life any better, because he would die of radiation poisoning and exhaustion, down in the dark. No one would even remember his name. Not even himself.

All of the thinking he had done had been for naught. He was dead anyway. Whether he had gotten into the caverns by some sort of failure on his own part or by luck of the draw didn't really matter anymore. There was no way out of this. He would die here, alone, cold, maybe a little wiser, but no better for it.

Finally the whistle was blown for a brief break in work. R-1221 collapsed on the floor in exhaustion, not sure if he would ever be able to get up again. 'This is it,' he thought, 'this is my deathbed. Funny how things work out like that.'

R-1221 was ready to shut his eyes, and say to hell with the rest of it, but a light was shining in his eyes. R-1221 had not seen any lights since coming into the caverns. R-1221 looked up and all around him, and found that it appeared to be coming from where he was digging. That seemed very odd to R-1221, and so he decided to poke at it with what little strength he had left.

It was gem, about the size of R-1221's palm. It was warm to the touch, but not entirely unpleasant. It also gave off a very faint white glow. R-1221 found this thing entirely curious, and so stared into it, as one stares at a book they are especially engrossed in.

Within the glow R-1221 saw a world far and away more different than any he had ever known. One of green grass and high castles. Of ents dancing with their wives. Of two trees of silver and gold. Of elves and their eternal cities. It was a place of love and truth, of deep wisdom and deeper virtue. He saw great heroes, and the evil they would overcome. He saw all manner of craftsmen, and the wondrous beauty they would make. He saw an elf and a man kissing, becoming one for the first time.

It was a place far more beautiful than R-1221 could even imagine.

And just like that, it was gone. All that remained of the glow of the gem was a faint blue ember twinkling in it's center.

R-1221 was fascinated by the gem, wiping the tears from his eyes. However, he was a slave, and there was work to be done. R-1221 quickly stuffed the gem into his rags, in a place he knew no one would find it, just as the whistle was blown again. R-1221 found that he in fact had just enough strength to stand back up, and keep working for a little while longer. Back and forth the pickaxe went, digging away through the stone.

And so R-1221 continued to work, oblivious to the silmaril in his pocket.

 **Author's Note**

Sorry things got so philosophical at the end there. The reason for it is that I originally planned for this to a temporary ending for the story, but then I actually came up with an idea of where it can go from here, so here we are. You can think of this as the end of act 1, I guess.

I'm also wondering if I should bump up the rating to M or not. So far there's only been swearing, but I don't know where things might go from here. I guess I'll make that change when it comes down to it.

Anyway, feel free to leave any sort of criticism!


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